


A Shoulder To Cry On

by lilidelafield



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: (Not as gloomy as it sounds!), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilidelafield/pseuds/lilidelafield
Summary: April Dancer is unusually withdrawn and subdued. Can Mark draw her out? Can he come up with a way to help her?





	

I had been watching her for the last couple of hours. She seemed, on the surface at least, exactly as normal, but I am her partner. I think I can say I know April Dancer better than anyone else at UNCLE. Perhaps her eyes were gleaming a little more than usual? Perhaps she was distracted, preoccupied with something I was not privy to; some problem she had not shared?

It bothered me, because April is a force of nature. To see her so withdrawn saddened and worried me. I had to pick my moment though, and for much of the day we were not alone. Not at liberty to discuss anything other than the security detail we had been assigned to.

All right, a job for one of the other divisions within UNCLE, you may say, but we have recently had a nasty flu going around, and with fifteen agents from sections three and four all off sick with this same nasty bug, to say nothing of three section twos also stricken, some of the more routine tasks are having to be shared out among those of us whom are left. Therefore, whilst Napoleon was flat on his back, suffering from the worst case of flu ever to hit mortal man (apparently), his partner was working his socks off trying to get fifty different important tasks completed with only two thirds of the regularly available personnel. April and I he dispatched to take charge of the security team guarding the hospital where Waverly is currently incarcerated. Waverly was the latest victim of the flu epidemic; but doctor Towers, on consideration of Waverly’s age and position, decided to err on the side of caution. On that account, Waverly was being well cared for in the securest wing of the hospital, and in between bouts of coughing and vomiting, complaining and arguing most vociferously that he would have been quite all right recovering at home, thank you very much.

Probably he is right at that. It is rarely that Mister Waverly succumbs to any sort of malady, and it would be a very brave virus or germ that stuck around once Mrs. Waverly was on the job. I did not envy Kuryakin his job one bit. I was seriously hoping that Kuryakin would not come down with this flu himself, because yours truly would be the next in line to take over the running of the office. A responsible enough job when we were fully staffed, but with people dropping like flies all around, and THRUSH still pushing hard?

All the same, I was not convinced that it was the fear of my taking charge that was making April look so forlorn. It was not until Beavers and Cannel took over our watch, and we were free to go home and get some well-earned rest, that we had the chance to talk.

Outside, the wind was **raw** and bitter, and we wrapped our arms tightly around ourselves to try and keep out the cold. April was wearing her wooly hat, a big blue crocheted thing with a pom-pom in the top that I loved seeing her wearing. The wind sent her pom-pom dancing, and it chuckled at the sight. I ran my hand over my bare head.

                “I should have brought my cap, but…”

                “You hate wearing that thing.”

I nodded.

                “I know, but it _is_ warm…April…did _you_ make that hat of yours?”

She shook her head.

                “No, my crochet skills are not this good. My aunt made it for me a few years ago. Do you like it?”

I nodded.

                “I love it. I love the pom-pom, and the colour suits you. I could do with one like that in black or **brown**.”

                “Blue would suit you, Mark. Go better with the colour of your eyes.”

I grinned.

                “Yes, and we would look very noticeable walking down the street in identical wooly hats. Like some elderly couple.”

She chuckled, and I was relieved to hear it. I had not heard her laugh or seen her smile all day, and I’d missed it.

                “April, is everything alright? You seem so unhappy today. In fact, you’ve not been yourself for a couple of days.”

April shrugged, and as we’d reached our car, I opened the door for her and sat her in the passenger seat, even though she often liked to be the one to drive. Once beside her with the door closed, I tried again.

                “April, I know something is wrong. I’m your partner, and I want to help if I can.”

April gave a sudden loud sniff, which shocked me, as it was clearly her way of repressing an unexpected sob. I took her hands.

                “Hey, I’m here. Here’s a hanky if you need it, but my shoulder is bigger…”

She gave a start that was half a laugh and half a sob, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

                “Sorry Mark, I know I should have said something to you before, but I…Do you remember that wedding I was invited to a while ago, and you couldn’t come because you had to go to China with Napoleon?”

I nodded. I remembered well, as it had been on our return from China that events had started to unfold that had led to Napoleon and Illya faking their deaths and going deep undercover in Russia*.  April gave me a wan smile.

                “It was my brother Charlie. Charlie married to my best friend from school Marilyn Hayward. Well, four days ago, I had a call from him, telling me that she had left him, taken the baby and as their money had all been in a double account, she had emptied it and taken the lot. All he had left is the house they were living in, and her father owns that.”

I won’t repeat my comment at that, but suffice it to say April gave me a grateful little smile, then a sob emerged.

                “How is Charlie coping?” I asked her, fearful of the reply. She looked at me, tears in her eyes.

                “He’s not.” She replied. “Last night my father came round to tell me that Charlie is…that he…”

                “He hasn’t gone and…?”

April stared at me for a moment, startled, then shook her head.

                “No, no... well…he tried, but he was found in time. He’s in hospital. Mark, I can’t believe what that creature did to him! She was my best friend all the way through school. I introduced them to each other! How come I never saw that she was like that? How could she do that to Charlie? He is the kindest soul in the world!”

I put my arm around her.

                “She probably wasn’t like that before. People do change sometimes. Anyway partner, we have a secret weapon that your ex-friend does not have.”

                “What? Not UNCLE? Mister Waverly would never agree to us…”

I put on my best innocent face.

                “We don’t have to take any kind of action, do we? We have the resources to find where she has run off to…we could give her a bit of a shock…let her know that her secret is out…I’m sure Napoleon would be able to come up with something deliciously sneaky to teach that woman a lesson.”

April started to smile.

                “So long as no harm comes to her…I’m thinking about the baby.”

I nodded.

                “Don’t worry about that. Napoleon and Illya have the corner on the market when it comes to sneaky. What do you think about us taking our sneaky Russian boss out for a drink tonight, and running it past him? I’m sure he’d be up for a little rule-bending in the interests of justice.”

April thumped my arm and nodded.

                “Let’s do it. Thanks Mark. I do feel better for having talked about it. I guess Illya will be ready for a drink after work, with the week he’s having. Let’s go.!”

 

*Reference to my story The Lake of Tears Affair


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